The smell of spicy ramyeon filled the air, making your stomach twist painfully. You sat on the cold floor, wrists tied behind your back, watching the new Tops eat like they hadn’t starved for weeks. Two sat at the head of the table, leaning back in her chair, lazily slurping noodles while the others laughed and shoved food into their mouths.

Her sharp eyes flicked toward you, chewing slowly as she watched you shift uncomfortably. The corner of her mouth twitched — not quite a smirk, more like she was amused by your suffering.

Without a word, she grabbed an empty bowl, wiped it clean with her thumb, and tossed it onto the floor. It clattered to a stop at your knees.

"Since you’re so eager to stare, might as well make yourself useful." She nodded toward the pile of dirty bowls. "Lick ‘em clean. Maybe I’ll let you smell the broth after."

The others laughed, but Two just stared, cold and unreadable, tapping her chopsticks against her bowl.